


Between the Flowers and Artisanal Cheese

by dynamicmorning



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24065467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicmorning/pseuds/dynamicmorning
Summary: Jaskier has a Plan to con the farmers market.Geralt's just here to do the heavy lifting.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 178





	Between the Flowers and Artisanal Cheese

Geralt pulls up in his truck, an old and clunky thing with its fair share of dents. The brown paint is peeling on top; the last owner didn’t know what the owner before that had done to it, but looks don’t change how it runs, right? It’s an ugly car, but it gets you where you need to go and can carry more than it physically should. None of this stops the client from making a face when it stops outside the apartment.

“Jesus, that thing’s hideous,” Geralt hears him say, not really bothering to hide his voice.

He gets out and slams the door. “You Jaskier?”

“Yes, that would be me, thanks again for coming on such short notice.” He looks the man up and down: floral blue button up (with too many buttons unbuttoned), boyish young face (tough to read his age), almost as tall as Geralt is but lacking the muscle (of course, that’s why he needed the help). Jaskier is doing the same, then nods quickly and turns around back into the apartment. “I’ve got all the equipment here in my place, I’m on the second floor. Hell of a time just getting it up the stairs on my own, figured I could use some help bringing it out and about.”

Geralt follows him inside. The place isn’t dirty but it is cheap, and he passes the elevators with the “OUT OF ORDER” sign taped on. Jaskier is already halfway up the staircase and still rambling on about something, while Geralt takes note of all the doors that’ll have to be propped open on their way down. They arrive at the end of a long hallway and Jaskier opens the door with a slight kick, freeing it from some apparent jam.

“So here’s my guitar, and mic, and amp and little chair and all that. Usually I can get all that stuff on my own, just takes a couple of trips. But this,” he gestures to something large and metal folded up in the corner, “I know I’m gonna need help with getting it there, setting up, all of that. That’s new, by the way, got it just for today but hopefully it’ll be the start of a beautiful partnership.” Geralt feels strained just looking at it. He’s still not sure what it is, some kind of platform? He knows he can bring it downstairs himself but it’s a lot just for one man. He’s looking at the best way to pick it up (there are several pieces, that makes it easier) while Jaskier wanders about, making sure he has everything accounted for. Somewhere he’s picked up a bag of popcorn and is grabbing handfuls while he watches Geralt examine the equipment.

“Yeah, I can do this,” he pauses to let Jaskier finish crunching, “you’re just gonna have to help me on those larger pieces. Get the other side for balance. I’ll get most of the weight.”

Jaskier nods, keeps munching the popcorn and pauses to pull something out of the bag. “Huh, guess they still stick prizes in these?” he mutters as he pockets a cheap, buttery ring. “Sounds good. And as for payment…”

“Wondering when you were going to get to that.”

“Weeeeeeell, I’m a bit short on what I can give you now. However. I won’t get paid until after the show, and even then the amount depends on how, ah, generous people are feeling. But 20% of everything, is that fair?”

Geralt sighs. He had a feeling it would be another one of those days. “Make it 30 and we’re good.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr… Geralt. 30 will do, let’s get moving!”

Jaskier washes his hands of the popcorn grease and starts directing Geralt. Together they start moving audio equipment into the truck, pausing every once in a while to let Jaskier “shake out the arms, make sure they can still play.” After longer than he would have liked, Geralt gets everything loaded up. Jaskier, surprisingly, hops in the front seat alongside him. “Alright, I’ve got the address on my phone. Don’t give me that look, I always travel with my babies, even if they’re not in my car. Take a left up there and go straight for a few miles.”

They drive a few miles into downtown until they reach a set of roads blocked off. A large banner hung between two streetlights reads “FARMERS MARKET SUNDAYS 10-2.” 

“Right, this is the place,” Jaskier says, hopping out of the car as Geralt wonders if it actually is. He locks up and follows.

“So the main entrance is back there on the other end of the road, you can see that’s blocked off. This here’s the other entrance, more towards the back but with all the hidden gems. Over here,” Jaskier goes on, walking backwards and motioning around different stalls setting up, “this space is usually empty, not for any reason I can tell. That bagel place, delicious stuff, you really should try one sometime, has lines that double back and take up all this space. Nobody’s here yet, so that’s where we’re gonna set up.” The bagel stand is coming together, as well as several other booths taking their usual place. Designer lemonade, Austrian pastries, some place selling tiny vegetables for a higher price than any vegetable deserves. Jaskier is running back towards the car already; Geralt’s only had time to wander to the designated spot and look around. “Come on!”

They begin with the largest platform piece, which turns out to be a small raised stage. It takes up most of the open area and leaves only a little room for the bagel line-to-be. As Geralt connects the supports and wonders just how this made it into the apartment in the first place, Jaskier asks “What’s your story?”

Geralt grunts. “I do a bit of everything. Jobs on Craigslist mostly. Someone always needs a strongman.”

“You can say that again,” Jaskier says, eyeing his muscles. “Got a family? Girlfriend?”

“No family.” He tightens a bolt and looks at Jaskier, already climbing on top and stomping around. Seems stable enough. “Got a girlfriend, but she travels all over. Hell, so do I. That’s more of an open thing anyway; I don’t have to worry about her being lonely.”

Jaskier pauses his stomping and comes over to sit on the edge of the stage. “And yet, I get the feeling the same can’t be said for you. Do I detect a hint of bitterness?”

“No, actually. I love her a lot, we just end up where we end up.”

“Didn’t say you weren’t lonely though.”

“Haven’t found the right person yet.”

“So it goes, so it goes. Come on,” Jaskier springs up, “let’s get the amps next.”

He carries the amps, and the mic, and the guitar stands, and every small thing in the end while Jaskier directs and hangs back. Geralt can’t tell if the guy’s actually tired from helping with the stage or newly determined to get the fullest out of his contactor. Eventually they have everything plugged in and arranged to Jaskier’s liking, just in time for people to begin wandering in.

“Right then,” Jaskier says, “I’m gonna get started. Gotta get ‘em from the start, you know? Here, take this--” he fishes a couple bucks out of his pocket and hands them to Geralt. “Go get in that bagel line before it gets too long. You won’t regret it, I promise. Look around too! But, ah, don’t get too far, in case things get--dicey.”

The bagel line somehow has at least 8 people in it already. Geralt joins the end, which is starting to spiral, having been robbed of space by their stage. He looks at the chalkboard menu, simple stuff. Jaskier behind him starts tuning his guitar.

Geralt reaches the front, gives his order, then has to give it again to be heard over Jaskier introducing himself through the microphone. Everything bagel with plain cream cheese, toasted. He pulls out the small wad of bills to pay only to find he’s only got $3, the bagel costs $4. The bagel’s already in the toaster, he doesn’t carry cash. “Fuck,” he says within unfortunate earshot of a toddler. She starts crying. 

“Here, I’ve got it,” says the woman behind him, stepping forward and pulling a spare dollar out of her bag. “Everyone deserves to start their day with something good.”

He turns around, sees the middle aged woman who looks like she probably crafts puppets for a living or something. “Thanks ma’am. I appreciate it.”

She shakes her head. “You just pay it forward young man. Next time you can do something good for someone, take that chance.” She picks up both her and Geralt’s orders from the counter and hands his over. Before he can respond, she ambles away to the next stall. Geralt unwraps the bagel and takes a bite. Jaskier was actually right, it’s one of the best he’s had in months.

Reminded of the man who brought him here in the first place, he turns back towards the stage. Jaskier is strumming away, and strangely looks sort of professional? A couple of people are hanging out and actively listening, while others browse the nearby wares and nod their heads along to the music. Geralt hates to admit it, but he’s got a nice voice, even if his choice in songs is…

“ _ BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CUT ME OFF, MAKE OUT LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED AND THAT WE WERE NOTHING...” _

He’ll be fine on his own.

This section of the market seems more geared towards crafted goods, while the produce is on the other end. There are three different distilleries clustered together but not too close to seem redundant, separated by homemade condiments and hand-dyed scarves. Each one offers free samples. Geralt tries them all. Dogs follow their owners on leashes and respectfully sniff each other in passing, familiar with this environment every week it seems. Someone hands him a flyer for the local roller derby team. Another singer-songwriter type is also setting up his mic, and keeps sending dirty looks towards the stage. Before he gets too pissy Geralt makes a note to unplug the power cord. It could happen to anyone, really.

He keeps wandering, taking small bites of apples and nectarines set out for free, and takes a moment to breathe in the fresh air. Rarely do jobs like this come along where he has free time built in and can just do his thing. Usually it’s just “carry this here” or “help me build this deck” or even “look intimidating and pretend to be my bodyguard and possibly throw a punch if the situation calls for it.” That job got him kicked out of Rhode Island for a while. This is… nice, in its own way. Even the clown performing for the kids isn’t grating. That’s when he sees the real stage.

He heads back to the other entrance and checks his phone. How has it been over an hour already? There are way more people than there were before, and Jaskier’s stage is forcing them closer together. Geralt finds a place to stand near the front where he can keep an eye on things. Almost immediately another woman approaches him, arms crossed and short of fuming. “Where is Baby Steps?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The woman looks almost offended that he doesn’t recognize the name. “Baby Steps! The infant and toddler ballet dance group? My niece is performing at 11:00, and it’s 11:15, and this…  _ hooligan _ has been playing since 10! What happened to my niece?!”

_ How the fuck should I know _ is what Geralt does not say out loud. “I don’t work here, maybe they’re at the other stage?”

He barely gets the sentence out before the woman snaps “Other stage? OTHER STAGE? We were  _ explicitly _ told there would only be ONE stage, by the entrance, where everyone would see as soon as they came in. I’ve been waiting here since the opening and saw YOU and HIM setting this one up! Are you telling me I was lied to?”

Fuck. “I was paid to set this up here today, I don’t know who’s performing when. If you run to the other end of the market you’ll probably catch the end of the show.” 

The woman draws herself up, likely to shout something about his qualifications, before she realizes the time. How long a routine can toddlers possibly have? Huffing, she grips her bag closer and storms off towards the other entrance.

“ _ SO BABY HOLD ME CLOSER IN THE BACKSEAT OF YOUR ROVER... _ ”

Jaskier is still going. Geralt has no idea how long his set is, but figures he’s prepared to go the entire length of the market. He’s definitely in his element, and has his guitar case open in front of him. A modest amount of bills and coins sit inside, as well as a few wrappers and free sample sticks. At some point he had set out small business cards, but the wind had come through and scattered them all over the market ground. He looks down and makes eye contact with Geralt, smiling and nodding like he’s pulled off the biggest heist of the century. Geralt grimaces and tries to signal as best he can that whatever they had pulled off, it wasn’t smart at all.

The peace and music continues for another twenty minutes, Geralt watching for anyone else with complaints. Sure enough, before too long a man in a polo shirt and a nametag comes walking briskly towards them, followed by the Baby Steps Lady and the other independent singer. Jaskier has just finished another song, oblivious. “Thank you, thank you all for your applause! And donations of course, it costs a lot to be this good, and to be here today. Anything you can spare is appreciated. Don’t forget to check out my Soundcloud. Do I hear any requests?”

“Sir, you need to stop this immediately,” shouts the polo man. Geralt is close enough to read his nametag as “Charlie Davis” something “management.” Charlie cuts through the crowd and stands right at the base of the stage. “You’re performing here without approval from the entertainment committee, creating a public disturbance, and deceiving others looking for the official performance stage. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jaskier points at the other singer. “So what, I can’t perform but this guy can?”

“There is a difference between a modest performance on a street corner and setting up a large stage and blasting your music over half the festival grounds. Not only does it take up a large amount of space, but it’s unfair to the real entertainment on the real stage.”

Charlie is tense, Baby Steps is smiling smugly, and Jaskier seems like this isn’t phasing him at all. Still, Geralt gets the sense there’s something more than performing without a permit going on. “Come on, it’s just music! And it seems like the crowd is enjoying it, right guys? Can I get some applause?” There are a few scattered cheers and claps, as well as people pulling out their phones to film the confrontation.

“You didn’t pay the entry fee.”

“There shouldn’t be a FEE to SHARE MUSIC at a farmers market!”

“It’s a charity fundraiser! The performance fee and all donations go towards kids with CANCER!”

“Fuck, didn’t know that,” Jaskier says under his breath. He raises his voice again to address the crowd. “Well, I WOULD have signed up, but ol CHARLIE here REJECTED me! Because he’s a BIGOT! He told me I couldn’t perform because I’m GAY! And after all this trouble my boyfriend went through to help me set up, that’s right honey, get up here.” He’s motioning for Geralt to join him onstage.

Geralt awkwardly obliges, pushed forward by the growing crowd and encouraged by a few whistles. He looks at Jaskier like he’s a madman, and Jaskier looks back at him in a way that says “go along with this or there won’t be money to split with you.” So Geralt stands next to him and gives an awkward wave to the crowd. “That’s… right, uh, baby.” He remembers the bagel lady,  _ pay it forward. _

“How DARE he!” Jaskier slides an arm around his waist, the sudden connection giving him a jolt of  _ something _ . “But we’ll show him. We’ll show him that it’s okay to be gay! Love wins!” Jaskier turns sharply to Geralt and whispers “ _ Now kiss me. _ ”

Geralt feels himself flushing, and starts to say something when Jaskier goes for it himself. He is passionate and relentless, and Geralt (to his surprise) puts a hand around his neck and pulls him in closer. For that moment, everyone else is gone, and he is here kissing this man he met on Craigslist this morning and it feels strangely right.

They break after some amount of time, Geralt can’t tell how much, and the audience breaks into applause. Everyone except for Charlie, who scrambles up onto the stage next to them and takes the microphone for himself. “He’s lying. Anyone who was at the real concert at 10:00 knows that we opened with the local gay men’s choir.” Someone shouts “that’s right!” and the audience gets to murmuring again. “Anyone here can tell you that our community is progressive and accepting, and your sexuality won’t stop you from performing, but--”

“It certainly won’t!” Jaskier snatches the mic back. “You can give all the excuses you want sir, but the heart of the matter is that you have ruined this day for us. This performance wasn’t just for everyone’s enjoyment, it was also an opportunity to make this the most special day for me and my man. Geralt…” He steps back and faces Geralt with a look of intensity unmatched by anyone else in the crowd. Slowly, he dips down to one knee and reaches into his pocket. The crowd roars, and dozens more phones come out. Jaskier takes out the ring and holds it out to Geralt. It still smells like butter. “Will you make me the happiest man at the farmers market?”

There’s no way out of this now. “Y-yeah. I do. I mean, I will. Yes.” Jaskier springs up and hugs Geralt, trying to pick him up and spin him but mostly just pulling up on his shirt. Somehow he’s crying. Geralt knows this is a farce, but he never got this far with Yen, and finds himself smiling in spite of it all.

Charlie steps in and yanks Jaskier’s collar. The audience immediately starts booing, so he whispers, “Step down and pack up now or I’m calling the police. You can keep whatever you’ve collected, just… don’t try and play here again.”

“Yep, loud and clear.”

The two of them pack up pretty quickly after that. Charlie feeds a few words to Jaskier who manages to redirect the crowd to the main stage, where Baby Steps will be giving an encore performance to make up for anyone who unfairly missed the show. You couldn’t pay Geralt enough money to see that. They don’t speak for a few minutes, just focusing on disassembling the platform and picking up all the scattered business cards. Geralt slips one in his pocket when he thinks Jaskier isn’t looking. It sits there next to the popcorn ring, because it had been too small to fit on any of his fingers.

Geralt loads the last of the stuff into the truck and sees Jaskier counting the money in the front seat. “How’d you do?”

“Just about $30. Stingy bastards. And I could have doubled it if we stayed the whole time.”

He climbs into the driver's seat, looks at the wrappers discarded on the floor from their haul. “Why’d you need a full stage anyway? Why not go for something simpler, like that other guy?”

Jaskier scoffs. “I've tried that here and there, and you just don’t get the audience. Just another white guy with a guitar, and you can barely be heard over the next one five feet away. Besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “talent like mine deserves to be center stage.”

“Just not the one raising money for cancer.”

“Those acts are booked up months in advance anyway.” He flips through the bills, counts out a few and passes them over to Geralt. “There’s $10 for you. That’s about… $3 an hour. Sorry about that. Here, you know what, take this extra 5 too. If we’re gonna be splitting finances and all, on account of being engaged.”

Geralt laughs and takes the money. “Can’t say I’ve had a job like this before.”

“And you’ll never have one like it again. Unless you stick with me, that is.” 

“What, do you do this often?”

“Well,” Jaskier pulls out his phone and scrolls through his calendar, “I’ve made note of the nearest 15 farmers markets, festivals, and other assorted gatherings in need of musical assistance. Someone’s gonna have to carry the stage.”

He takes a moment, and laughs at the absurdity of it all. “Tell me more about it. Over a drink?”

Jaskier takes his arm, gives it a squeeze. “Anything for you, my fiance.”

**Author's Note:**

> they end up going to dave and busters because it's the only place that serves drinks on a sunday at noon
> 
> very much based on my real life local farmers market
> 
> thanks to alittlebitmaybe for betaing!


End file.
